


Road Map to Hell With Good Intentions

by Azides



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry's luck, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Child Abuse, Poor Harry, Rituals, Stockholm Syndrome?, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7166372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azides/pseuds/Azides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After stumbling across an unexpected source of knowledge Harry may have found a way to finally defeat Voldemort. Too bad that Harry has the luck he does. When a ritual goes wrong, Harry finds himself closer to Voldemort than ever before, though neither of them know it. Stripped of his identity, who will Harry become under the watch of the Death Eaters?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unwelcome Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> This is not cannon. It breaks around the 6th book. Sirius is still dead, and Horocruxes still exist, but Harry doesn’t know about them yet. I will not be sticking to the events in the books and am going to mess with some of the characters. In later chapters there will be slash. If these things will make you upset, do yourself a favor and avoid the emotional trauma. Read something that will satisfy you and leave me out of it.  
> Please understand that this is both unbetaed and is my first fanfiction, so please be patient and I would love to hear what people think.  
> p.s. To all the Draco/Harry shippers out there please no that this is not the focus of the story, though it will play a part.  
> Please, Enjoy!

The town of Hogsmeade was typically a quiet town. Aside from the Hogwarts’ students which invaded every month very few things disturbed the peace. It was on one such weekend that Harry Potter was dragged by his friends to the Three Broomsticks so that he could “lighten up”. In a rare show of agreement both Ron and Hermione claimed he was spending too much time sulking in the castle. This wasn’t the first time that they had brought it up. No matter how often he told them, they never accepted Harry’s insistence that he was fine. Hermione would look at him for a moment, then her brown eyes would soften with sympathy and she would drop it for a while. Ron, less than subtle as always, would snort, then pale and stare at him with an amusing cross between embarrassment and guilt, resembling constipation. Hermione would usually drag him off after a minute of this. It didn’t work this time. “You’re clearly not fine, Harry” Hermione had said. She had coaxed her posture into an unpracticed pose of patience and acceptance.

“It’s clear that you need to talk about this, it’s not good for you to keep your emotions bottled up. Please don’t push us away Harry” Hermione pleaded. Strangely, Harry thought she sounded more… scripted than usual. Had she practiced this?

“Yeah mate, we’ll be, um… Non-Judgmental, accepting, and… Um” Ron stammered and looked at Hermione for help. She gave him a small glare and nodded her head.

“We’ll listen really well, promise mate” Ron said, quickly this time. Hermione sighed. Harry’s suspicions were confirmed. They had practiced this.

“Thanks guys, but really, I’m fine” Harry said. He hoped they would drop it. He couldn’t talk about it to them. It wasn’t that Harry didn’t think he needed to, but talking about it would mean thinking about it. He would have to put into word the awful, squirming darkness that was always at the back of his mind. No matter how hard he pretended that everything was fine it was always there beneath the surface, waiting. It made him want to tell his friends about the things that invaded his nightmares, just to see the horror and fear on their faces. To wipe away their pity. Yes, he saw Sirius falling and the terrified faces of his friends as they broke and died in battle for him. But he also dreamed of Voldemort’s rage. He tortured and killed, and felt for himself Voldemort’s thrill. He enjoyed having someone else in pain for a change. Some mornings when he woke up to Ron’s inevitable invasion of his personal space he would imagine Ron’s terror if he told him how good it had felt to be Nagini, to have only a single purpose. As the dark lord's familiar all he needed to be happy was to obey his orders and, with all his power, strike to kill. The first time, when he first had that vision of Mr. Weasley's attack he had told Dumbledore that he saw it all from the snake's point of view. What he never told anyone was that the reason he vomited after the vision wasn’t the pain of the connection with Voldemort, after all he had been through worse. What had made him sick had been the taste of blood in his mouth. Though he found out later it was from biting his own tongue, in that moment he thought it had been Arthur’s blood. It had made him hungry. He had thrown up to try and replace the taste in his mouth, to escape the knowledge that he liked it.

Later, once the chaos had died down, he had taken his potions knife to his thumb and made a small cut, just enough to draw blood. He wanted, no, needed to know if the hunger remained.

It hadn’t. The part of his mind that wanted to be normal, to be good won over the darkness in the light of day. Harry told himself that it was stronger, that he would never let that hunger out. And it was true, the boy that Ron and Hermione called a friend was a stronger, larger part of him. But the darkness was growing. All he could do was push it down and pretend it wasn’t there. He couldn’t think about it. He certainly couldn’t talk about it.

Which is what made his friend’s new insistence on talking so irritating. They would want to talk about Sirius. That alone might break him. But the subject of Sirius would open up the conversation to the visions and his friends were desperate to talk to him about his nightly terrors. They were growing more anxious by the day.

Why couldn't they just leave him alone?

Harry realized that silence had settled thickly over them. He didn’t want to break it. It was better to not talk at all. Hermione didn’t agree and he caught her glancing towards her open school bag. The top half of a muggle bound book was visible above the canvas. Understanding Trauma. Psychology. Internally Harry groaned- so this was Hermione’s source of bravery. Hermione noticed his gaze and covered the book. Too late.

Harry felt like he should be angry, but all he felt was resigned. He should have expected this. As much as he loved his friend, she was very predictable in turning to books when stressed. By now, Ron had learned to just follow her lead. In most circumstances Harry would have done the same, but now that was not an option.

"Just come down to Hogsmeade with us" said Hermione. She sounded slightly annoyed at the discovery of her plan. "I know you are having some trouble with everything. Ever since school started up you haven't been talking to us. Ron says that you have nightmares every night! I know that ever since..." Hermione's voice softened. She moved closer like she wanted to comfort him. "Harry, ever since Sirius died" Harry's frown darkened and he leaned away, but Hermione pushed on, "you've been acting like you're alone. But you're not alone. Harry- we're your friends! After all these years what do we need to do to prove to you that we can get through anything if we do it together? We've been through trolls, spiders" it was Ron's turn to flinch, "even dark lords. Let us help you!" She paused to breath. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder. Even Ron had moved closer to Harry.

"If you really can't speak with us, look at the Department of Mysteries. We weren't the only people with you that night. If not us, talk to them." Harry looked at her. He was running out of options. Would it really be that bad? Hermione was usually right about things. Maybe they could help him keep the darkness back. Sighing, he gave his friends a weary smile.

"I'll talk."

Hermione and Ron wasted no time and dragged him down from the tower and out into Hogsmeade. Harry didn’t know why they thought being out of the castle to talk would help their case, but he was willing to play along. After all they might be right. A peaceful, relaxing day in Hogsmeade might help him sort out his head.

They had settled into a table at the well-traveled Three Broomsticks. In an atypical show of tact Ron and Hermione put off confronting Harry, instead easing into a conversation of inane topics, mostly quidditch, over three butterbeers. He knew that they would eventually work up to it, but for now Harry actually found himself enjoying the day. So, in line with every other experience of Harry’s life, this is when the peaceful Hogsmeade went to hell.


	2. Incoming Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Ron and Hermione... they can't take Harry anywhere can they? Or what happens when Harry goes to Hogsmeade.

Over the sound of Ron’s Quidditch commentary the sound of apparations just outside the Three Broomsticks followed by frightened screaming rose over Hogsmeade’s usual cacophony. By the time Harry and his friends struggled to their feet the voices were closer and Harry could hear the curses being cast: Unforgivables. People inside the Three Broomsticks were panicking. A few wizards had even run out into the street before Madam Rosmerta had locked and warded the door. Harry felt the air become heavy.

“Anti-Apparition charms” Hermione whispered. Grabbing a jar from behind the counter, Madam Rosmerta ran to the fireplace and flung the powder towards it. The flames sputtered green for a moment, but remained orange. They had also blocked the Floo. A woman in the corner began to cry. People paced and clutched at their wands but nothing was cast. No one knew what to do.

“Does anyone know how to make a portkey?” Hermione called over the crowd. Several people looked around, desperately hopeful. No one answered. A man from the bar spoke up “Its Ministry regulated, they don’t teach it”. Frustrated and indignant, Hermione turned back towards Harry and Ron.

“Now what?” she asked, looking shaken. Ron was looking thoughtfully around the walls of the pub. Harry didn’t respond. The noises from outside the walls were bringing up memories from his visions. He tried not to listen, but it was all he could focus on. He could feel the darkness stirring at the back of his mind. Digging his nails into his palms he focused on the people inside the pub. Many had taken refuge against the walls and in the darkness of corners. The terror on their faces made them look so fragile. Harry recognized some third years among them.

Suddenly, Ron’s face lit up. “The back!” he whispered. Hermione looked just as confused as Harry felt.

“The Three Broomsticks has a door in the back” he explained. Hermione’s face paled.

“Is it locked?” her eyes went to the curtained area behind the bar.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Ron. “You can’t get in from outside, its one way. They used to build them for fires before they came up with anti-fire wards.” Hermione was staring at Ron by this point. He blushed. It wasn’t often he knew something Hermione didn’t.

“But there are Death Eaters outside! At least we’re safe in here” Hermione’s statement was followed by an explosion as a Death Eater’s spell impacted the Three Broomsticks Door. Smoke curled into the pub from under the door.

“That door won’t hold for much longer and besides, the Death Eaters are only in front of the Three Broomsticks. We wait much longer and they’ll be everywhere, but if we leave now we might outrun them, get back to Hogwarts.” Listening closely, Harry could tell Ron was right. While the noises were loud, they were only coming from one side of the building.

“We need to get the people out” Harry finally spoke. He couldn’t move his eyes from the third years. It made something inside him ache to see them huddled under the tables, terrified. These were good people; they didn’t deserve to be so scared. Hermione opened her mouth to agree, but froze when Ron shook his head.

“We can’t move quickly with this many people and they will draw attention to us.” At Harry’s sharp look Ron added “Besides mate, the Death Eaters… Well, they’re probably looking for you.” Ron wouldn't meet his eyes, a strange expression on his face.

Harry hung his head, not able to look at his friends. He wished it wasn't true, but how could it not be? All the attacks until now had been on the smaller communities of wizards. Hogsmeade was too close to Hogwarts and too well defended to make a good target. And what were the chances that Death Eaters would attack the one time that he was away from the castle?

“You’ll put them in more danger if you stay” said Hermione. Bitterness filled Harry’s throat even as his guilt strengthened. Hermione knew better than anyone how to manipulate him, even if she would never admit to it. No, she would claim that everything she did was in his best interest. And she would never confess to being wrong.

His thoughts were cut off by another explosion on the outside of the door. More smoke came in from under the door,

“It’s decided then” said Ron. Harry was reminded of Ron’s commands to his chess pieces when he was close to checkmate. But unlike his pieces’ instant obedience, Hermione turned to Harry waiting for his answer. After a moment Ron too turned towards him. For a second Harry thought that he saw a hint of jealously on Ron’s face as he eyed Hermione.

He wasn’t left to think on it as only seconds later another explosion made the walls of the Three Broomsticks tremble. It seemed louder than before. A glance at Hermione’s grave face confirmed what Harry suspected: the wards were weakening. Once they were down, the physical structure of the pub would be no match for magic that destructive. The trio shared one last glance, then made their way to the storeroom.

“What are you doing?” A man who, if Harry remembered correctly, had been cowering under the bar now was between them and the storeroom, with Hermione’s right arm in his grasp. Flinching in pain she tried to pull away, but the man continued to clutch at her with the air of a drowning man. He was a tall, red-flushed man with fear-rancid sweat dripping down his face.

“Let her go!” Ron had his wand drawn before Harry could blink. Ron may not have been the best dueler, but enraged and looming over the man, Harry didn’t doubt he could do some damage, especially since, at this range, he wouldn’t miss. The man wilted under Ron’s fury and Hermione continued to struggle, but the man’s grip didn’t break. Harry looked around the pub carefully. After years of his unwanted celebrity he could tell when he was being watched. The patrons, desperate for a distraction from their terror, were focused on them. None moved, but he knew that it was only a matter of time. Harry could see the panicked mania of their assailant mirrored in their eyes; no one liked being helpless. If violence broke out, there would be a mob.

“It’s me they want” Harry whispered, leaning closer to the man.

“You! Why would they…” The man froze, apparently not having recognized the Boy-Who-Lived until now. It seemed to shake him, though not enough to release Hermione. “If they have you they’ll leave us alone! They don’t want…” His voice broke. He sounded delirious.

“It doesn’t work like that!” Hermione rounded on the man, clearly frustrated. She softened her voice, but Harry didn’t miss the threat lurking behind her words. “They’re Death Eaters, they won’t stop just because they have Harry. Just let us go, if we run maybe…” her careful explanation was cut off by the smell of ozone and wave of magic which swept over the Three Broomsticks. The wards had fallen.

The goon turned white, and froze as an explosion blew the door off its hinges, splintering it into fragments. To his left Ron made a small noise, his hand coming up to clutch at Harry’s shoulder. To his horror, he realized that a shard the length of a finger had buried itself in Ron’s thigh. Thankfully it didn’t seem to be bleeding very much. They needed to get him to Madam Pomfrey, and soon. Figures in dark robes stood in the smoking entrance, silhouetted against the afternoon light. Harry realized that their eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness. Not wanting to waste an opportunity, he drew his wand and fired off a stunner at the first Death Eater, feeling a surge of triumph as his target collapsed to the floor.

His victory was short lived. The remaining Death Eaters, seeing their comrade fall, sent a curse that made Harry’s blood freeze. The noise of the battle still raging outside drowned out the words of the curse, but sickly green light that, for a heartbeat, lit the darkened pub told him everything he needed to know.

Avada Kedavra.

Harry froze. The world appeared as if in slow-motion, as he saw the curse straight towards him. He didn’t want to die, but from the darkest parts of his mind where he pushed the thoughts, the parts of himself that shouldn’t exist came a different thought. From these depths came a surge of hate and fear that, for once, he couldn’t control. The darkness carried an overwhelming thought, the desperation to stay alive. At any costs.

For the first time he felt whole, the endless civil war inside his mind over, all united into one purpose. His hand moved. It hooked around a neck. With only a small force the body moved with it. A body now in-between him and the Death Eaters.

The glowing curse connected and the body collapsed. The darkness retreated slightly, and Harry became aware. He stared, terrified, at the body of the man who grabbed Hermione lying at his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I didn't update for so long. Summer really took all of my energy- but now I have some time to work on this, so I promise to do better and provide lots more updates to you lovely people! As always, feed back is encouraged, and Kudos make me feel all warm inside :)  
> Sincerely, and with all my love,
> 
> Azides


	3. Escape Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio plans their escape.

Before he could control his thoughts, the trio reached the back room and Ron was ushering him towards an empty section of the farthest wall. With a strong shove, Ron sent Harry through the wall and out into a narrow, abandoned ally. Standing there, stunned by the sudden brightness, Harry mused about its similarity to the barrier at 9 and 3/4ts. Seconds later, he was bowled over by Hermione and Ron as they came through. Hermione looked deeply shaken, her face pale and expressionless. Ron steadied himself against the far wall and reached down to his leg. The wound looked even worse in the light, The dark, jagged wood was stuck worryingly deep into his thigh. He tried to touch it, but pulled his hand back as if he had been burned with a pained look on his face. Steeling himself, he reached down to try again, but this time he was intercepted by Hermione, who had regained some awareness. 

“You can’t take it out.” She hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. Ron stared at her. “Not only will it splinter even more, but with how deep it is, if you remove it you could bleed to death.” He grimaced, but left it as it was. 

"What now?" asked Hermione, as she peered down the alley towards the street. Echoes of the destruction and screams could be heard, growing steadily louder. 

"Hogwarts" Harry said softly. It was comforting to know that whatever was going on in his head, Hogwarts had always been home. Ron nodded, pushing down the pain. For once, he was in his element and Harry could see his fingers twitching as he strategized the best route, like he was playing a game of chess. Harry just hoped it wasn’t one like first year. Then his fingers stilled.

"We're near the edge of Hogsmead. We head down there-" Ron pointed to the farther, dimmer end of the ally, away from the screams"-and take the side street out of town towards the shrieking shack. Enter Hogwarts through the tunnel." Hermione shook her head. Quick to recover as always in the face of academic challenge.

"There are too many wards on the outside of the shrieking shack. Dumbledore made them, we won't be able to get in." The darkness in Harry twitched in response to her continuing worship of the headmaster. For once, he made no effort to quiet it- his own faith in Dumbledore having been injured after Sirius had died. 

 

After the prophecy.

 

"So we just go through the wards." Ron said after a quick recalculation. “Skip the building entirely and cut through the Forbidden Forest.” Hermione considered that for a moment. 

"I suppose it should work. The wards are intent based... we are students who want assistance. It should work…" She still looked worried, but for all its dangers, the Forbidden Forest was still safer than the Death Eaters. 

The problem would be making it there. Hermione, for all her gifts, was no athlete. Ron’s leg was the greater danger, however. The redhead could barely walk, and while shock and adrenaline were numbing the pain for now, Harry knew that would wear off soon. And the Death Eaters wouldn’t slow. 

Harry waited for the panic he knew he should feel, but there was nothing. There was nothing but fear and anger blanketing his mind. He felt bile in the back of his throat, and he tried to push the darkness back down. To his growing discomfort, the thoughts and emotions didn’t disappear. Instead they buzzed at his mind telling him to run, that he could run and they couldn’t. He could get to Hogwarts first, tell the teachers… But he knew that was a lie, an empty promise. If he ran, his friends would die.

But he would live. 

Again, Harry pushed desperately at the thoughts, but they refused to dissipate; taking up the corners of his mind like the shadows of Boggarts. Every moment some unspeakable idea would slither from them. The worst part was that Harry recognized them, they were the things he had learned not to think. The parts of himself that he had walled off to survive the Dursleys, to forget Ron’s betrayal, the taste of blood, Bellatrix’s laughter as Sirius fell…

“Alright, Harry?” With a jolt, Harry realized he had been staring blankly at his friends. Not that they noticed. Ron’s eyes were fixed on the opposite wall. Hermione was seemingly fascinated with her feet. 

He wanted to scream. Even outside his head there was no refuge from the anger: Ron and Hermione wouldn’t look at him. They hadn’t since they left the Three Broomsticks. Harry tried not to blame them. He told himself that they had been through a lot, however, with all his secrets loose in his head he couldn’t lie to himself and he could feel the rage growing behind his eyes. But he wasn’t lost yet. With the emotions came the memories of the one escape from rage that he had always known. He could run. 

“Let’s go.” Ron and Hermione stiffened at his voice, but followed after him down the alley, towards Hogwarts.


	4. Chase Towards a New Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a last minute plan, Harry ends up on a chase between death and a dangerous secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got off another chapter. Feel free to show me your support, after all, it makes me feel so happy inside. So let me know what you think. Also, this is still unbetaed, so if you see a mistake, please point it out.

At first, they managed to avoid any death eaters. The death eaters were numerous and made no effort to hide their presence, the sound of their insane glee and destruction preceded them. Each close call and near miss was avoided by ducking inside the shadow of a nearby doorway. As Harry had not thought to bring his cloak, they had to make due with Hermione’s quickest disillusionment charm. With that and a bit of luck, the trio had made it to the edge of Hogsmeade. It was there they ran out of luck. As they began to run up the open stretch of road to the school they were spotted by a small group of death eaters which had been guarding the perimeter. From how they charged up the hill, Harry figured that they knew the trio were hardly average Hogwarts students. 

Ron, and Hermione tried to run faster, but the day’s terror was beginning to wear them out. Hermione, the bookworm that she was didn’t have much experience with running. While Ron was slightly more used to exercise due to his quidditch obsession, the shard of wood impaling his thigh crippled him. Between the two, they would never outrun the death eaters. A traitorous part of Harry knew that he could out run the two. His time as a victim of Harry Hunting had never left him, and on his own he knew he could at least stay ahead of the Death Eaters. But that would abandon both of his best friends to torture and murder. He was already responsible for one murder today. Harry knew he couldn’t live with a second one. 

So how could he insure the safety of his friends? They couldn’t outrun them together, and with no way to contact the castle, there was no way to tell if help was on its way. In a moment of inspiration, Harry realized what he could do. It was Ron’s words earlier which had confirmed what Harry had already know- it would be worth it if he could keep Ron and Hermione safe. 

“Guys, head back to the castle. Get help!” he panted. “Like you said, Ron, they’re only after me. I’ll keep them distracted in the Forbidden Forest.” Harry didn’t stick around for their protests. He cast a Bombarda Maxima behind him at the encroaching Death Eaters and split from his friends, sprinting as fast as he could in the opposite direction, towards the forest. Ron and Hermione both yelled after them, Hermione’s desperate scream of “Come back right now, Harry Potter!” only helped his plan. If the Death Eaters didn’t know who they were pursuing, they certainly did now. Harry had already put a good amount of distance between his friends and himself, and the forest loomed closer with every step. While his friends were slow, he knew that by the time the Death Eaters caught up with his friends to subdue them, likely to use them to force Harry’s surrender, they would have already lost him amongst the trees. Their Lord would not be happy if they came back empty handed. The Death Eaters, after all, were chasing Harry Potter and his friends. Forced to make the choice between the boy hero, or his sidekick friends, Harry prayed they would come after him.

To his great relief, it worked. Despite Ron and Hermione’s screaming, the Death eaters were racing after him. Most had been able to avoid his spelled explosion, but he did spot a slower dark wizard with a nasty looking burn on his arm. Aside from the one with the energy, most of them had looks of deranged triumph on their faces; and for good reason. Harry was running full tilt into an environment almost as dangerous as the Death Eaters themselves. An environment with dark elements that his pursuers likely knew vastly more about how to deal with. Despite his time spent there, Harry knew that he was screwed. His only hope was that his abandonment would allow Ron and Hermione enough time to reach help from the order. With that final thought, Harry put on an extra burst of speed and launched himself into the tree line. 

Once inside the forest, Harry realized that he had an advantage he hadn’t expected. Due to highly honed Quidditch reflexes, he barely needed to slow his pace as he made his way over rocks and vines while dodging trees. Harry hoped that with their larger frames and clumsier actions, the Death Eaters would lose some speed. Listening carefully, he nearly grinned as the sounds of those hunting him fall away. He might make it out of this after all.

His good mood lasted until the wind shifted. Then Harry first smelled the smoke. The Death Eaters had started a fire. He hoped they were doing it carefully, as an out of control forest fire could be just as dangerous for them as it would be for Harry, and a carefully directed fire would take longer to cast. But that didn’t necessarily mean good news. When Harry was seven, he witnessed on of the neighborhood boys in Dudley’s gang playing at arson with a small box of stolen matches. The beginning criminals were gathered around a bin in a nearby park filled with discarded boxes and newspapers. The bins contents had caught beautifully, and soon enough the fire was roaring out through the top of the metal cylinder. This only made the idiots more excited, and soon enough they were savaging for even more things to be thrown inside. Dudley and his friends hadn’t counted on the drought that Surrey had been under for months, or that the grasses and trees nearby were nearly as dry as the paper. The resulting fire nearly trapped Harry inside a cove of burning trees. He had only just escaped. So, Harry knew just how quickly fire could spread. Depending on the spell they were using, he might not even be able to out run it. 

One thing he hadn’t considered, though he should have, were the beasts. Some creatures of the forest would only be attracted by their noise, and the light and heat from the fire. Six Death Eaters were one thing, if Harry ran into Aragog’s family, he had no chance. The chances of another magic car showing up weren’t good. Sure enough, soon he began to see dark eyes glittering out at him from the darkness. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to be very large Acromantulas, and they made no move to attack Harry. He altered his course, turning left towards Hogwarts, and began to see less and less of them. Harry figured he must be on the edge of their territory. Harry could still see the glow of flames behind him though, so he ran faster. No matter how much speed added though, he felt he could still hear the Death Eaters behind him, drawing closer. His eyes widened. They were using the flames to clear a path for themselves, losing him any speed advantage the forest had given him. Now it was Harry who suffered from obstacles caused by the vegetation. 

From His right her heard a loud scream, and cries of “Kill it”. One of the Death Eaters must have encountered a nastier spider. Harry wondered if they had lost his trail. It would explain the split. He would have to be careful not to lose track of where they were. Just as he finished the thought, a bolt of fire came from above the trees, slamming down twenty-five meters away from Harry and cutting him off from the school. The trees quickly became a wall of fire, and he was forced deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The trees here were large, larger even than the ones that had surrounded the place where they had tricked Umbridge. On the positive side, Harry no longer saw any spiders. He wondered if they were anywhere near the centaurs. On one hand, they might be able to ambush the Death Eaters. On the other, with Firenze occupied at the castle, the human hating factions of the race might also kill him. Still Harry found he much preferred dying in the Forbidden Forest at the hands of centaurs than the torture and murder which waited for him in Voldemort’s clutches. So, Harry kept running; his path taking him deeper into the forest than he had ever been. 

Strangely, Harry didn’t run into the centaurs, or any other creatures. From his brief excursions through the forest, he had come to expect that part was claimed by some group of beings. But here there were no signs of life. Instead the trees seemed to get denser and darker, choking the light from above. Harry could hear Death Eaters getting closer each second, so he kept vaulting forward through the tangle, despite no longer being able to see his feet. 

So, when the ground caved out from beneath him, Harry could not even see how far he fell. Though from the feeling of the impact, it was longer than he was expecting. Touching the walls, he found that they were curved, and smooth in places. Placing his back to the wall, Harry decided to risk a lumos. With Death Eaters nearby, it could give away his location, but Harry needed to know what he had fallen into. Covering the tip of his wand loosely to dim the light, he muttered the spell. The hole in the ground seemed to be a shallow well. The walls were shaped, grey, and smooth. Indeed, the sides were almost unnaturally smooth due to the apparent age of the well. There should have been some moss in the cracks, or paths where water had worn away the surface. Instead, the sides looked recently assembled. 

The well was narrow at the top. In fact, it was so narrow that it is amazing that Harry had fallen into it at all. At the bottom however, the walls widened, tapering into a tunnel that ran straight ahead and out of sight. With no way to climb out, and hoping to avoid the Death Eaters, Harry decided to follow the tunnel into the darkness. It couldn’t be worse than what waited for him on the surface, right?


End file.
